


Which Witch

by chaoticandsad



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Feels, Dimension Travel, Eventual Romance, Inspired by Kuroshitsuji, Interspecies Romance, Multi, Pagan Gods, Paganism, Realm Hopping, Religious Conflict, Religious Discussion, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Self-Acceptance, Self-Doubt, Self-Insert, Shamanism, Victorian, Victorian Science Fiction, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-22 04:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20867834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticandsad/pseuds/chaoticandsad
Summary: Eighteen years. No god. By now, a god should have claimed you. You are an accomplished witch and not so great shaman. Your parents are proud of your studies but you know they pray every night for someone, anyone, to claim you. While focusing on becoming the shaman your parents want you to become, your world collides with another. You meet a small demon boy named Nox, he consistently talks of "them" and claims you are the only one who can shut the doors. Along the way, you cultivate a team of two entitled boys and their demon butlers. You feel a strange connection to them all. Despite your feelings, you are determined to shut the doors and prove you are worthy of a god, even if it means never seeing them again.





	1. "Reality is merely an illusion. Albeit a very persistent one." -Albert Einstein

The air is different. No one will tell me why. I keep asking my mentor, but he changes the subject every time. Something has happened, but I don't know what. I am determined to find out.

I pull myself from my thoughts. These streets at night are dangerous, even if I do know fifty different spells and curses to take any man down.

Fog blankets dark cobblestone walkways. Clouds mask the Moon, which means I can't rely on her light tonight. My phone light is dim and hardly makes a dent in the darkness. I don't mind too much, I know the way to my mentors library by heart.

Jingling my keys, I unlock the heavy oak door at the back of an alleyway. I know Avian won't be here at this time of night, he'll likely be at a club, drowning out the gods voices with loud music and alcohol. Such is the life of a tortured shaman.

I flick the switch for the one, measly lightbulb. Golden light fills the cozy library, illuminating books from centuries ago and making the dark blue Persian rug look almost maroon. I flick my finger in an upward motion toward the fireplace. Flames climb up the chimney before settling. Every corner of Avian's library is now lit.

"Time to get to work," I mumble, sliding off my coat and letting it fall to the floor.

I scan bookshelf after bookshelf, but I can't find anything that could shed any light on this feeling. This feeling in the air that's so different, so wrong.

"Masster Avian will not be too happy," purrs my masters familiar, Vila. She slithers down to me from atop a shelf; her porcelain, iridescent scales glittering in the warm lights. She wraps herself around my shoulders, curiously peering down at the book I've just picked.

"A book of godsss?" She flicks her tongue over the cover. I nod. Avian hasn't gotten to these lessons; he tells me I'm almost there, but not quite yet, considering a god hasn't chosen me.

Vila twists down my arm and to the ground, motioning me to follow her with her tail. I obey. She leads me to the restricted books, to which the metallic, black door is open. It never is.

With caution and a pinch of fear, I enter. I find Vila perching on a pile of books, key in mouth, and flicking her tail toward a mess of papers. I frown, how did she get a key? Avian always told me this door can only be opened with a certain spell.

"Massterss latesst work," she says as she drops the key.

I feel uneasy, I've never been allowed near Avian's work. Despite my brain screaming no, my feet force me forward anyway.

I find photographs of a tall man and a short boy, both in what I recognize as Victorian dress. Their backs face the lens who captured them. Piles of papers hold frantic writing in red ink. Scribbled questions, such as: "Which reality? What realm?" and, "Who opened the doors?"

I slowly turn my head up to the wall. Upon it, red thread and thumbtacks trace a path of pictures, notes, and newspaper clippings. Everything seems to point toward two worlds melding together. But all I see is crazy ramblings from my crazy mentor. I knit my brow and shift my eyes toward Vila, who holds my gaze with steady, beady ruby eyes. I swear she begins to smile, but it could be the poorly lit backroom. Vila slithers away once again into the rafters of the library; I pick up the book she had curled around, its title reads:

The Theories of Albert Einstein

I place the book in my (f/c) backpack. Without another word, I wave my hand, commanding all lights to shut off, and quickly leave. Anxiety gnaws my stomach. If Avian finds out about the stolen book, he'll kill me. Or worse, dismiss me as a student. I begin to run home.

"Where have you been?" asks my mother, hand on hip, one foot tapping against the kitchen floor.

I smile sheepishly and close the kitchen door, "Picking up a study book from Avian?"

My mother raises an eyebrow. She gestures to the dinner table, where my own food has now grown cold. I smile again and place my food in the microwave.

"I'm proud you're dedicated to your studies, but I wish you were on time for dinner just once. Your father and I miss the company."

"Sorry mom, I promise I'll try harder. It's just my studies have gotten so busy, there's so much work." I mumble. The microwave beeps.

"I know sweetheart, your father and I have been doing this for over twenty years. Oh, and on that note, has a god chosen you? You should have one by now. My god chose me when I was your age."

I cast my gaze to the ground. She always brings this up. Eighteen years and no god.

My mother, a shaman, and my father, a witch, have been pushing me to become a master of both. I can only manage witchcraft becuase it's easier. Anyone can do witchcraft. Shamanism is a whole other world...

"-gone for another business trip. An old woman and her husband have been experiencing some demonic hauntings. I don't know how long it'll take, but I've prepared some meals for you. If you run out, you know what to do."

I nod, completely missing the first part of what she said, and shove my mouth full of mac and cheese, which would have tasted better fresh. Mom squeezes my shoulder and leaves for the upstairs, leaving me alone.

I shove the rest of my dinner in my mouth, wash my plate, and run to my room. Anxious excitement fills me as I think about cracking open that book. As I enter, it begins to drizzle outside. Tiny raindrops pitter against my window. I jump into my nest of blankets. The book opens with a satisfying pop from the spine.

Tap...

Tap...

Tap...

I raise my head from the convoluted text. Nothing.

Tap...

Tap...

CRACK

I jump off my bed. The window is broken open, shards of glass shine under the light from my desk lamp. Still, nothing is here. But I can feel something. Something dark. I close my eyes and begin to chant.

"By the rule of the gods, by the force of the elements, I reach within me an-"

Growling. I open my eyes. A black shadow peers at me from my back wall. Its eyes glow fuchsia. It growls again, slowly making its way toward me. A large, black panther prowls at me, teeth bared. He stops a few inches from my face.

_You will not cast me out, shaman._

Its voice echoes around my room, making my bed and desk shake.

_You will help me, shaman. That is what they tell me._

I gulp. "Wha-what?"

_I am not where I should be. Someone opened my realms door, you will help me close it._

I nod unwillingly. The panther smiles a dreadful, toothy grin. I smell blood on its breath. I watch the panther shift to the form of a small boy with messy, onyx hair and brilliant green eyes. His skin is a sickly ivory shade with no undertones to give him life. He wears Victorian style clothing.

A demon. But not one I recognize. Demons shouldn't have those eyes, they shouldn't bother themselves with a shaman, or a witch for that matter.

The boy puts out his hand and smiles. His eyes are deadpan. I swallow hard and shake it.

"I hope we can work well together, (f/n)(l/n)."  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Authors Note:

A quick pronunciation of Vila's name, since I feel it could be confusing.

Vila (Veela)

Thank you!


	2. "It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see." - Henry David Thoreau

Key: (a/c)= another color (p/n)= pronouns 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His hand is cold. It numbs my fingers. He smiles another toothy grin. Then it dawns on me.

"How do you know my name?"

He smiles wider, "They told me."

"Who's they?"

A knock sounds at my door. 

_Fuck. _

I hurriedly open my door and block the opening with my body. Mom is holding an empty hamper.

"Mom I can do my own laundry. I'm an adult."

"I know, I know. I just feel bad. Your father and I have been gone so much and I feel bad not being there. Let me do you just one favor. Please?" 

I sigh and look behind me. The little demon boy has his head cocked, eyes brimming with amusement. I turn back to my mom; "Hold on a sec." 

I close the door and grab my nest of blankets. I wrap him in a messy burrito while shoving him in my closet. He growls loudly, my desk and bed shake.

"Honey? What was that?"

"My stomach!" I curse at myself. She will not believe that. 

Mom opens the door, brow scrunched. I slam my closet doors and lean against them. I begin to feel pounding on my back. 

"(F/n), what is that? What did you bring home this time?" 

"Uh-um-it's a... it's nothing to worry about. It's just a, just a frog. Or a-uh... it's nothing to worry about," I stumble over my words. Mom drops the basket and pushes me aside, flinging open the closet doors. 

She takes a minute, staring in my closet. She's not saying anything. I'm screwed. 

I peer over her shoulder to see the demon boy, blankets draping over him. He's fuming. His eyes are glowing that fuschia color again. Mom slowly turns toward me, eyes calm. Too calm. She might kill me. I feel my hands begin to sweat. She looks back at the boy. Then she leaves. I'm dead.

I whirl on the demon, "What the fuck? Why did you do that? I could have gotten away with this and now both my parents are gonna kill me, or worse, bring me along for one of their shaman witch trips. This is all your fault."

He merely shrugs; "We could always memory wipe them. Or kill them."

"No! You are not killing my parents. Or memory wiping them. And what do you mean by _we?" _

He smirks, "If we make a deal, we-"

"No. Who do you take me for? I am a damn good witch and subpar shaman. Not making deals with demons is first grade stuff."

"That may be so, but-"

"No!"

Our half-whisper, half-yelling argument is interrupted by Dad calling my name. I freeze, then trudge to my parents room. The little shit follows me.

"What is this?" My dad asks in his soft, quiet voice. He gestures toward the boy. Mom has her arms crossed, her eyes are angry but the rest of her body is calm. Not good. 

"I'm (f/n)'s new familiar. We are working on our bonding."

I feel a ball form in my throat. I refrain myself from yelling at him and instead narrow my eyes, burning holes in his head. 

"A familiar?" My mom asks. Dad raises his brows, showing all the wrinkles in his head. I release my glare, now looking toward Dad.

"Um, yea, yes. Yep. This my new familiar. My demon familiar," I say with no confidence. The boy smirks. 

Dads familiar jumps up to his shoulder. She gives the boy her classic judgy glare. She's a cranky old possum, and was a gift from my cranky old grandma. Dad reaches up to scratch under her chin. She grins a sly grin and whispers in Dad's ear. He lifts the corners of his mouth; "I always felt your familiar would be something rare. Something special. Though I do wish it could have been me to gift you your first familiar."

"Honey, I told you, that's not a demon. He's not like the others." 

Dad waves Mom off, still grinning softly. He turns his head to me, "What are you going to name him?"

"Uh. Nox?" I say, thinking of the many pantheons of gods.

The boy cocks his head, as if testing his new name in his head.

"Well, Eleanor proposed the idea to me just now that if you can't handle this familiar, we will banish it and you can either inherit Eleanor like I did or make your own contract," he says. Eleanor gives me another sly grin. I definitely did _not_ want to work with her.

I nod and inch out of the room. Mom huffs and closes the door after me. I hardly escaped her wrath, but I'm sure she'll have a punishment for me. 

I hear her yelling down the hallway in my own room. The newly named Nox flings himself on my bed. He grabs the book, which now has crumpled pages from me dropping it.

"I hear you 'received' this from your mentor, Avian."

I nod, narrowing my eyes. My guess is he knows about the book from "them." Nox flips through the pages before stuffing it in my backpack. 

"Alright. Let's go." He says. 

"What? It's the middle of the night!"

"I am aware, shaman. What you will understand is midnight is the perfect time."

"Ok, first of all, you know my name. Second of all, can you just stop being so cryptic for one second?" 

Nox rolls his eyes and sneers, "Remember, you are helping me with a big problem. This problem being two worlds are colliding when they should not be."

I refrain myself from punching him. I merely grumble and plop myself in front of my desk, looking into my mirror. My (h/c) hair is a mess, it's frizzed from the humid air and my baby hairs are soaked from sweat. I scrunch my nose as I shove it into a (a/c) beanie. Some hairs still stick out. Nox appears behind me.

"Why are you fussing with your hair. We have work to do."

"Shut up Nox."

He snickers and jumps down from the back of the chair. I grumble again and snatch my backpack. 

We leave the house. In the middle of the night.

Despite my parents being gone a lot on business and making decent money, we still don't have enough to buy things of luxury, like cars. So instead I have a monthly amount for Uber and a permanent bus pass. Tonight, I figure a bus is better. No one asks questions on the bus. 

We make our exit out the kitchen to find sheets of rain soaking the small alleyway our trash bins hide in. I grip the straps of my bag and set out in a sprint to the nearest bus stop, a few blocks from my family's small townhouse.

My feet slap against wet pavement and cut across slippery grass. Nox's footsteps are close behind me, I'm impressed he can keep up with his stubby legs.

With the stop soon coming into view, I check my phone, the bus should come in two minutes. I lean against the back wall of the stop, sliding off my beanie. My hair more than likely looks like a literal jungle. I wring out my soaked beanie and look over to Nox. His hand is out in the rain, catching the droplets. His eyes finally hold some emotion instead of that dead fish look. He appears peaceful, happy almost. I tug my beanie back on as I hear tires slowing at the stop. I beckon Nox to follow me.

"Pass?" asks the driver. I hand him my pass, he punches a hole in it. Nox is the first person I've used my visitor pass on. I only have three visitor passes. We scoot to the third row, avoiding potentially dangerous people who haunt the back. I feel Nox isn't as concerned as I am. I then realize.

"Wait, where are we going?" I lean over and whisper. Nox whispers back, "The forest."

My stomach lurches. The forest. At midnight? This kid is insane. Why am I following him? What am I doing following a demon into a forest at midnight? Who knows what kind of things or people lurk there.

My short thoughts must have taken up the five minute bus drive because Nox pulls on my arm for us to get off. I follow him. 

Past the crumbling, weed-infested bus stop is the forest. Nox pulls into lead, he turns his head a few times, making sure I'm still following him. We walk down a rough path deeper into the forest. Trees tower above us, at least, I imagine they do. I can't see my hand in front of my face. I follow the sound of Nox's soft footsteps, placing myself in a demons hands. My parents will definitely disown me if they find out about this.

Deeper we go, into this black void of a forest. I feel something grab my hand.

"FUC-"

A small hand covers my mouth and Nox's voice hisses at me to shut up. I try to lick and bite his fingers, but his grip is tight; I can't move my lips. 

"Look ahead," he whispers.

I focus my eyes and see a light- a dim, orange light. Nox removes his hand (which I wonder how considering he's shorter than me, but I figure almost anything is possible for a demon of his kind). We creep toward the orange light, which I soon recognize as fire. As we near, I begin hearing arguing. I can tell by both voices the owners are British. One sounds like a younger boy, maybe around my age, the other is definitely older than me. I try stopping, but Nox pushes me forward. The voices become louder.

"Explain why you _never_ bothered to give us a roof over our heads in this dreadful rain? And where is that shaman?" snarls the boy.

"I apologize, my lord, but we must keep a low profile. Remember where we are. And of the shaman, I believe the panther will be bringing (p/n)," purrs the man, his voice is deep and echoes through me, making my body feel empty. I hear the boy growl. 

Nox pulls me in a large gap among the trees. I find the backs of a short boy who definitely looks around my age, and a tall man. Both have black hair, but the boy has an odd blue tint to his. They both wear fancy Victorian dress. I immediately recognize them from Avian's photograph.

The tall man turns, quicker than any normal human, revealing his crimson eyes. My heart stops. He must be another demon. By the feel of it, a powerful one too. He stands.

"Ah, I see you have come. Please, let me introduce you to my master, Ciel Phantomhive. I am his loyal butler, Sebastian Michaelis."

My heart is beating out my chest. Blood roars in my ears. The demon who calls himself Sebastian bows, eyes turning fuschia. This must be a trap. Nox led me straight into a trap.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's Note:

Some more notes. I want to keep this gender neutral, that's why I am inserting pronouns for people to place their pronouns in. I also have Ciel and Alois the same age as the reader (18), because consenting adults in a story is real sexy. I also made everyone adults becuase I may involve a romance with Sebastian and Claude, but I'll see (I'm aware Sebastian and Claude are demons but I'm just uncomfy around the ships involving them and the two children, but I will not attack you if ship any of them).


	3. "The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears. The rose is sweetest wash'd with morning dew, And love is loveliest when emblam'd with tears." -Walter Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this story on Quotev for a bit but I'm not the biggest fan of the formatting there, so I'll be posting the rest of this story on here. If I ever decide to do a crack story, I'll probably publish it on my Quotev account. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!

I feel like an idiot. I should have never followed this little shit here. It should have dawned on me when he asked about making a deal. All he wants is my soul. I clench my fists and lunge at Nox, ready to punch. I am met with air, making me fall as I follow through with the punch. 

"Dammit!" I yell, my voice echoes across the forest. The boy named Ciel turns from the log he's sitting on, now facing me. My breath hitches.

He wears an eyepatch on his left eye. His right is a brilliant, navy blue, it matches his hair, which is swept to the left. He wears lavish Victorian clothes which screams wealth. Even though he is drenched, he radiates power and luxury. Needless to say, he's beautiful, but I feel small next to him. His glare makes me feel useless, worthless, as though I mean nothing to him. Part of me wants to prove him wrong. 

"What is your plan, shaman? Are you giving up so soon?" he asks, his voice is soft and reminds me of silk, yet it has an icy edge, making me shrink.

I shake my head. Nox clears his throat, which snaps me out of my trance. Then I remember. I whip my head toward Nox.

"Fuck you! How dare you lead me into a trap! Once again, who do you think I am? I can banish you back to your miserable spot in hell!" 

Nox only smiles. Sebastian coughs softly.

"May I kindly ask you to not speak like that in front of my master?" he tilts his head as he speaks. 

He is also beautiful, inhumanly beautiful. His crimson eyes no longer send chills up my spine, in fact, they begin lulling me in a warm daze. His face looks as though it belongs in a Renaissance painting or on a Grecian statue. I feel myself hungering to do anything he asks, anything at all.

I nod and feel my face burn. Damn it, I'm blushing. Nox clears his throat again, louder this time. 

"May I remind you, (y/n), I am here because they told me you could help. We are not where we should be, obviously," Nox says, gesturing at his and the others clothes, "we need your help. Not your soul."

Sebastian smirks, "your soul is not the most appetizing I have come across." I furrow my brow, trying not to feel offended. 

Ciel rises. My stomach tries crawling out my mouth as he nears me. Though soaking wet, he smells of a time long forgotten by this world, and chocolate. 

"Take us somewhere warm. Somewhere dry. When you do, we may discuss this situation further." his eye is ice and a slight snarl is forming on his face. I am reminded of my father scolding me.

I nod and turn on my heel, knowing exactly where to take them. We will have to walk though, the bus would never let me bring this many people with only one pass. And I definitely do not want those Uber driver questions. I decide a twenty minute walk isn't too bad.

"Are we there yet?" whines Nox yet again, dragging his feet. I ignore him, but Ciel finally bursts.

"(P/n) said this would be a twenty minute walk. For every two minutes now, you have asked the exact same question, and every time, the answer is the same. Why do you think the answer will suddenly change the next time you ask?"

"I know the answer will be the same. I'm just bored," Nox snorts. For the rest of the walk, the two argue loudly, definitely waking the people whose homes we pass. 

Relief surges through me when I see Avian's door, and it looks like he is home. I pray he doesn't have another man over, I hate seeing his one night stands creeping out this alleyway. I knock on the door. Avian opens it right away, as though waiting for me. His eyes are glazed, his Friday night metallic shirt half undone, and a bottle of vodka locked tight in his right hand. This is a familiar, and welcome, sight. 

"I was told you were coming." He slurs as he takes a drink from his bottle, which he then promptly chokes when his eyes settle on the crew behind me. Wiping his mouth he stumbles inside, trying to form Vila's name but failing miserably. I lead us in.

"You can sit here." I gesture to the seating area in front of the fireplace. Nox slouches in an armchair who engulfs him almost completely. Ciel sits slowly, taking in the library; his eye scanning everything with a cold and dreary glare. He scrunches his nose when Avian enters the room with a hefty notebook. 

"Alrigh, I need yew to answer every. Single. Question. And there's alotta them." He slurs as he sits, opening his notebook; his pen comes to life. The pen stands upright, ready to write. Ciel looks at the pen curiously, he opens his mouth but Avian cuts him off.

No nononono, _ I _ will ask question. You answer. Mkay. How did you get here?"

Ciel grumbles, but he answers; "I was preparing for a case sent from the Queen. For this particular case, I was to travel to a small countryside town in England, but Sebastian foolishly led us off course. A storm began and stranded us as one of the tires sank in the mud. We wandered until we ran into him," Ciel turns his glare toward Nox, who begins giggling as he is literally fully engulfed in the chair. Ciel cocks his head but continues, "The panther began claiming these mysterious 'they' could speak to him, and they told him of a certain shaman who could help." He then turns his eyes toward me. My stomach flips and my fingers lose every ounce of heat. I begin wringing my clammy hands. Avian leans back and takes another sip. He trails his eyes upward, as though asking the gods what they are thinking. He sighs and runs a hand through his shaggy white hair.

"Well, I suppose my last question for the night is: do you know if others came here too?" Avian seems to have sobered up quick. I blame the gods.

"If I may intrude, I do sense another like me. I am not sure if he is alone however." Sebastian says scratching his chin and looking upward. He then raises a finger and looks at me, "Ah! I do sense he is on a hunt, though for what soul, I do not know, since I am surrounded by many bland ones. They remind me of stale soup biscuits!" He says this too cheerfully. When he winks at me, I want to feel even more insulted for him, yet again, calling me boring. But having him wink at me feels special, as though he is paying me special mind. Ciel rolls his eyes.

"Right. (F/n), come with me." Avian says and flicks his finger to the back. I follow him. I find myself alone with Avian in his apothecary. The smell of herbs and oils fill my nose; many people come here for herbal medicines or ingredients for potions. Avian leans against the counter, drawing circles with his finger on the cash register. He always draws circles when his gods speak to him. I wait patiently, yet another situation I am familiar with, though not so welcome. Whenever this happens, I always think back to my shortcomings. Avian sighs, "My gods are telling me the same things. They say only you can help them. They say there are six of them who have slipped through the doors. What they refuse to tell me is who opened the doors."

"But they are saying someone opened these doors?" I ask. He nods, "yes, they are. They refuse I come with you, though they have plenty of information for you."

"Why can't they just tell me? I'm open, I've been open. I have prayed, meditated! Hell! I've taken some of your psychedelics, desperate for _ any _ contact." I growl. Years and years, and I have gotten absolutely nothing from the divine. Sometimes I begin wondering if they even exist. Avian gives a soft smile and places his hands on my shoulders. 

"It will happen. Have patience. But for now, I need you to focus on this. The gods need you as a guide for that group of yours. They need you to find them all and travel to England, where they say the doors are. I will place your lessons on hold, and I am sure your parents will understand. I will give you some supplies before you leave."

"Wait. I'm not leaving now am I?"

Avian laughs, "Gods no, I'll give a day or two of rest, in the meantime, they'll stay with me so I can ask more questions and work on any revelation that could help you on your upcoming journey." I nod and grip my backpack straps. England. England? I don't even have a passport. Would the gods illegally smuggle me across the sea? No. That's ridiculous. 

Avian leads us back to the main room. Sebastian grins at me, which gives me my dreaded cocktail of emotions. Nox finally pulled himself from the armchair while Avian and I were gone. He smiles at me too, somehow I felt more welcomed in Nox's smile. 

"Alright, first things first. You all need new outfits. In daylight, this getup will not pass. Lucky for you, I am a fashion expert." Avian says, clapping his hands together and heading upstairs.

I knew I was no longer needed. Avian would take hours coming up with multiple outfits, all of which they would probably hate. Avian has always had an eye for the dramatics. Half is wardrobe is metallic and sparkly fabric. Besides, I am well overdue for some sleep. Tonight has been crazy, and I'm sure my life will only escalate with the journey I'm being sent on. I sigh and scrunch my nose.

"Well, I'm off. I've got a home and a bed. And if my life is about to spiral out of control, I want at least one more night of decent sleep." I say as I salute with two fingers. Sebastian waves and his smaller counterpart merely nods, still wearing a glare. As I exit my mentor's building, I feel something tug on my shirt.

"You are not leaving me behind with those two." Nox hisses. I roll my eyes.

"Fine. But you have to let me sleep."

"Can I have my own bed?"

"Sure, I'll go find one of Eleanor's old ones." 

I hear him softly growl. It kind of sounds like a purr, which makes me laugh. I ruffle his hair; "Ya know, I'm kind of glad you're gonna be with me. Ciel and Sebastian are scary, but you're kind of not, and that's good. I will need all the comfort I can get."

"I am scary! In fact, I am terrifying! I am the Panther. I can melt into shadows, I am a deadly assassin!" he snarls, but I only laugh again, which makes him growl. The streetlights above us shake. A few windows turn gold from people flicking their lights on. Despite Nox smirking at this and growling again, waking more people, I decide I won't let him have his fun.

"Walk faster stubby legs, I have a bed calling my name." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors Note:
> 
> I have this placed in America since I live in America and didn't do any proper research on the everyday life of people in other countries. Which, because I'll have this set in England, I'll have to do that research since I have always liked my stories as accurate as possible. Anyway, if I have anyone who has read all three chapters, don't expect regular updates, the main reason I started this fic was to use it as a coping mechanism (strange I know). I have set plans for completing this story but will only update when I need some ease. I apologize for any inconvenience.


End file.
